


a fate that befell me

by Tutselutse



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Emma and Zoey's reluctant friendship, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, Meet-Cute, Melissa is a good bro, Mild Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paul Matthews F U C K S, Paul-centric, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, well more of a meet-weird i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tutselutse/pseuds/Tutselutse
Summary: When Paul finds himself left alone and heartbroken in the wake of his father’s death, he takes solace in leaving flowers at his dad’s grave and then at the empty grave next to his. He isn't able to predict how such a simple action will end up indirectly affecting his whole life moving forward. Of course, a certain crabby barista has never been easy to predict.______Another au about their first meeting and their lives together
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 25
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a long fic, guys. It's very Paul-centric, and it takes some time before Emma even shows up (sorry). Title is from 'Dinner and Diatribes' by Hozier. It's not really plot relevant, but it has general paulkins vibes.  
> Just to be safe, the trigger warnings for this chapter is: death, hospitals.

Paul was 26 years old when his dad died.

It was cancer. Starting off in a kidney, and after getting treatment, he had a few years, where it seemed like he would be okay, but then it came back, spreading through him fast. When it hit his lungs, there suddenly wasn’t much time left.

It happened on a beautiful day in late May. Paul was standing in the little kitchen at CCRP technical, brewing two pots of coffee and preparing a tray of cups, a milk saucer, and a bowl of sugar cubes. Being Mr. Davidson’s secretary mostly entailed manning the phone and keeping track of the calendar, but occasionally Paul was responsible for bringing the coffee.

Mr. Davidson was having a meeting with some of the other department heads in CCRP. Paul had worked there for almost a year now and he had only seen the other heads two times before. He mused over this, trying to remember what he knew about the other departments, when his phone rang. When he looked at the display, his heart dropped into his stomach.

_Philippa._

His older sister. _Oh no_. 

“Pip?” he answered through his tightened throat.

“Paul,” Pippa’s voice sounded a little away. She was calling from her car. “The hospital called. They think it’s nearing.”

The shock rippled through Paul and he knocked over the saucer, so milk spilled all over the kitchen counter, dripping down the lower cabinet doors. “Shit.”

"I’ll pass by your work in 15 minutes, if you want a lift.” Pippa offered, not even acknowledging his swearing.

“That’d…” he swallowed, “that’d be great.”

“See you,” she responded and then she hung up, leaving Paul standing frozen, still holding his phone. Staring at the milk as it dripped down to the floor. _It’s nearing._ He had been mentally preparing himself for a while, but he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

His dad was probably his favorite person in the whole world. So he had to stay in the world!

“Paul, need a hand with the co- Paul?” the sound of Bill Woodward’s voice interrupted him. Paul whipped around, and the news had to be visible on his face, because Bill’s smile faltered and he moved over, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, son?”

“My sister called,” he answered, and his own voice sounded so far away. Like it was not him talking. “The hospital thinks it’s time.”

“I’m so sorry, Paul,” Bill said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll clean the milk and get the coffee for Mr. Davidson. You get outta here.”

“Thank you,” Paul replied. He managed to give Bill a small smile and then he headed out to grab his things. He kept his head down as he made his way to his desk, not looking at the others. Bill was always so kind to him, ever since he started working there, and Paul was grateful he took over now. He just hoped Mr. Davidson would be okay with him missing the rest of the day.

Paul readjusted his glasses as he waited for Pippa outside. Other people bustled around him, chatting and laughing, sipping iced coffee, happily living their lives unaware that Paul’s heart wasn’t about to be wrecked into a million pieces.

Pippa’s Audi pulled up next to him, and he jumped inside. He didn’t dare to look at her before his seatbelt had been tightened, not sure he would have been able to hold it together once their eyes met. When he did look up, her eyes were so sad and hopeless. He had never seen her like that before. Her eyes were chocolate brown, but as round and big as his. Her brown hair looked frazzled and she wasn’t wearing makeup.

“What about Pen?” he asked when he could finally use his voice.

“She’s on her way. She just needed someone to watch Evan,” Pippa replied, before pulling out back onto the road.

“Mom?”

“She’s there already,” Pippa said, “she didn’t have any class today.”

“Oh. Good. I guess,” he mumbled. Pippa didn’t respond, she just reached out and took his hand, squeezing it.

The drive to the hospital was longer than Paul ever remembered it being, but finally they were there, walking across the parking lot, still holding hands. They made their way down the now familiar hallways. Their father had been at the hospital for weeks, fighting for his life.

Paul hated the hospital, even though the nurses and doctors were kind. They reached the room and looked inside. “Oh God,” Pippa muttered. Their mother was sitting bedside, holding their father’s hand between her own. Paul’s heart was breaking at the sight, and he tightened his grip on Pippa’s smaller hand.

The sound of the machine helping his father breathe was deafening. Every painfully drawn breath was like a cut in Paul’s heart.

Their mother, Meg, looked up and smiled in relief. “Come in,” she said, “he seems okay right now.”

They sat down on the other side of him. Pippa took his other hand and Paul sat near his feet, placing a hand on his leg, so he could tell they were there.

“Has he said anything?” Philippa asked.

“Not since this morning when I showed up,” Meg answered, “he coughed and said _hello sunshine_.”

Tears welled up in Paul’s eyes. It was a phrase he had heard his father say to his mother pretty much every morning of his childhood. They sat in silence, just waiting. Paul wasn’t sure waiting was the right word. He didn’t want it to happen. The nurse came in and checked his vitals, smiling sadly at them and saying there was still a little time, before leaving again.

There was a knock on the doorframe and then Penelope was finally there. “Hi,” she said in a low voice, moving inside and placing her bag by the wall across from the bed. “How is he?”

“He’s alright for now,” Meg replied, getting up and wrapping Pen in a hug. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“My neighbor has Evan. There was so many cars crossing the bridge, I felt like the car wasn’t moving at all,” Penelope explained. Paul and Pippa exchanged looks. Normally this was the type of situation where they would make fun of their sister for moving to Clivesdale for a job.

“Fuck Clivesdale,” Paul whispered, and Pippa pressed her lips together to hide her smile.

They sat back down around the bed, watching him breathe. Paul had no idea how much time passed, but suddenly his dad started coughing and they all sat up straighter. When his coughs died down, he blinked and looked over at Meg, breaking into a small, painful smile.

“Sunshine,” he said, his voice weak and only vaguely resembling what it used to sound like.

“I’m here,” she responded, tightening her grip around his hand.

“We’re all here,” Pippa said, moving closer and pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“Pippi,” Connor croaked, “Penny.” They smiled at the nicknames and Penelope moved close to him. A tear hit Paul’s hand and he realized he was crying. “Paul,” the weak voice sounded.

“I’m here, Dad,” Paul said. He moved closer, and Pippa let him have her place. “I’m here.”

“I love you,” Connor said. “I love you all.”

“I love you too,” Paul said, doing his best to hold back the sobs shaking in his chest. 

“If you gotta go, baby, then that’s okay,” their mother said soothingly, “it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I’m gonna enjoy your company a little longer,” their dad responded, and Paul felt himself smile. It was such a typical thing for him to say. They all sat back down, placing their hands so he could tell they were there.

And then they waited again.

Paul counted the seconds between each breath his dad took, feeling relief whenever the next painful breath sounded. Over and over as the gaps got longer and longer.

Until the next breath never came, and the heart monitor sent out one long beep. And suddenly Connor Matthews, husband of Meg and father of three, was dead.

Paul waited for the next breath, still counting. He knew it wouldn’t come, but he still waited. He waited and hoped, as nurses and a doctor came running, and Pippa pulled him away from the bed to let them closer. Penelope held their mother and Paul blinked again and again to get the tears out of his eyes.

Connor Matthews was 61 when he died. Taken away from the world and his family far too soon.

And Paul was 26 and realizing with the fact that he had to live most of his life without his father beside him. He glanced at Philippa as she talked to a nurse, suddenly so incredibly envious of the 12 years more she got with their dad. It was still too young to lose your dad at almost 40, but it was better. He had been to her wedding. He had helped her plant apple trees in the garden in her big house in Pinebrook.

He helped Penelope when she got pregnant and he got to meet his grandkid.

But Paul? Paul had just started working, he still lived in a small apartment above a bagel shop downtown. He would have to face all his adult life without his wonderful, funny and caring dad. And it was not fair!

His mother wrapped him in a hug, and Paul rested his head against her shoulder. She smelled like home, of the bread she always baked and the perfume she had worn for 30 years or more. “It’s gonna be alright, honey,” she whispered and for a second Paul believed her.

“I’m gonna call Kristen,” Pippa broke the silence.

Paul didn’t wanna go. It would make it more real somehow. But it was getting late. They left the hospital after having been there for hours. Kristen was waiting outside, and Pippa threw herself into the arms of her wife.

“Ah, shit,” Penelope said, “I have no idea how to explain this to Evan.”

“You’ll think of something,” Paul’s mother responded reassuringly. Paul hugged them both goodbye and then he followed Pippa and Kristen to the car, getting a lift home. They told Kristen how it happened and then spent the remaining time in silence.

They dropped him off at work, and Paul took the short trip back to his apartment on foot. The evenings were still cool, and the air felt sharp against his tear-stained cheeks. He passed the faded sign, stating _New Hatchetfield Park, opening 2012._ The park never got finished and Paul kicked one of the smaller shrubs. He saw his building in the distance and sighed. He headed up to his front door and moved through it and up the old staircase as in a daze.

The apartment was empty and dark and as Paul looked around, he thought to himself that he would really have liked to come home to someone on a day like this. Even if it was just a cat, like he had always wanted.

* * *

A small week later the funeral happened. The sun was shining, and many people showed up to pay their respects. Planning it had been an alright distraction from all the sadness, but not enough. Pippa and Kristen were on top of it and didn’t leave much work for him. So Paul spent a lot of time reflecting on his relationship with his dad. He would sit on his old couch or by his small dining table, a cup of coffee between his hands and he would think about his childhood, his dad, and the rest of his family.

Being much younger than both his sisters, he had been left to himself much of the time. Philippa was almost a teenager when he was born, and Penelope was in second grade. Both girls had been so close to their mom, a closeness Paul never really felt. He loved his mom, he really did. But his dad was something else.

His dad would read aloud to him all the time. Paul would find him in his office, crawl onto his lap and Connor would read from whatever book he had laying around. Sometimes the books would not be fit for Paul’s age, and his dad would smile and tell him it was their secret.

When they went on vacations or weekend trips, Paul and his dad would go on long walks, which his sisters did not want to do. They probably had many reasons for it, but he mostly remembered them not wearing the right shoes. On their walks, they would talk about everything and nothing. Paul loved to hear stories about his dad’s life and his dad always listened to his opinions and stories, even though he was just a kid.

Their bond only grew stronger, when the girls moved out and Paul was alone in the house with his parents. When he went to college himself, his dad would call him at least twice a week.

Paul watched the coffin as it stood in the Church, surrounded by huge bouquets of white roses. He swallowed. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready for this to be the end. His dad was his favorite person in the whole world and now he was gone.

“Come on,” Pippa said, nudging him gently. Paul stepped forward, walking in a daze towards the head of the coffin. His dad was dressed in a nice navy suit, and aside from the hollow of his cheeks and the grey undertone in his skin, he looked like he was just sleeping. Taking one of his many naps on the couch. He never woke up when Paul watched cartoons, or Pippa talked on the phone or if she and Pen were bickering.

“Dad,” Paul mumbled through the lump in his throat. “Thank you. I’m gonna miss you.” He touched the edge of the coffin, wondering if it would be too weird to touch his dad’s arm.

Later, as they stood outside, watching the coffin get lowered into the grave, Paul stood a little to the side from his family. He was sweating in his black suit, as the sun beamed down on them. His fingers were tapping against his leg, as he tried to hold back his tears. Fuck, this was really it?

“Son,” a voice said behind him. He looked up and saw a man he didn’t know. He was dressed in all black, had long hair in a ponytail and a beard.

“Yes?” Paul said.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the man said, holding out his hand, “Name’s John McNamara. I worked with your father on occasion.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” Paul answered, shaking the offered hand. McNamara’s lips quivered, like he wanted to say something, but held it back. He nodded as he let go of Paul’s hand.

“I heard about _you_ ,” he said. “Your father talked about you. He was a good man. Helped me a lot of times. I owe him.”

“Did you take some of his classes on theoretical physics?” Paul asked.

“In a way,” McNamara said. Paul frowned. How cryptic.

“It’s nice of you to be here,” he said.

“Thank you,” McNamara said. He placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder and stepped forward, “Death feels meaningless and horrible. But the love your dad gave to his family, to you, it made the world a better place. And you will never lose that love. Remember that.”

A tear fell down Paul’s cheek at the words, and he quickly wiped it away. “T-thank you,” he stuttered.

“You’re welcome,” McNamara said and did a salute, before turning on his heel and walking away.

“Who was that?” Pippa asked, appearing next to him.

“Some guy who worked with dad,” Paul said, turning his attention towards her.

“Oh,” she said, “nice of him to show up.”

“Yeah,” Paul agreed. Pippa wrapped her arm around his and leaned her head against his shoulder. Paul sighed. His chest was still full of anger and sadness, but also love. Lots of love and gratefulness for his mother and sisters and for his dad. There was so much love for his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Lemme know what you think!
> 
> It's based on the tweet-story in three parts by Sixthformpoets.  
> I'm having a lot of fun writing this story. Be patient - Emma will show up eventually!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the response to this fic. I love y'all. Hope you like this one. It's a bit shorter.  
> Oh, and I changed the fic summary a bit. I hate summaries and can never really feel satisfied with them...

Life continued, of course. Paul cried less as time went on. He laughed more. He had moments where he didn’t even think about it. Of course, they were always followed by dread and sadness punching him in the stomach when he remembered it all over again. He kept a photo of his dad in his wallet and on his desk, and he tried to be thankful for what he had instead of angry and sad about what he lost. It worked most of the time. He returned to work pretty much right away, screening calls for Mr. Davidson, making coffee and planning meetings. It was nice to be occupied with work. It was the moments when he was alone with his thoughts that were the worst.

After a few weeks, Bill sat down next to him at his desk and handed him a cup of coffee. Paul turned away from his screen and lifted the mug to his lips. “How are you holding up, kid?”

“As best as I can, I think,” Paul answered. People often asked how he was, and he still had no idea how to respond. He was alright from day to day, but he also more unhappy than he had ever been before.

“If you don’t want to babysit Alice on Thursday, then that’s fine. We can find someone else or postpone,” Bill said in a gentle tone. Paul swallowed. Right, Bill and his wife were celebrating their wedding anniversary by staying at a hotel in Clivesdale and Paul had promised to watch Alice and drive her to school the next day.

“No, no,” he responded, “I’ll watch her. It’ll be good for me to get out of the apartment.”

“You sure?” Bill asked. He seemed concerned.

“Alice is great fun,” Paul said reassuringly, “I truly don’t mind.”

“If you’re okay with it, then she’ll be happy,” Bill nodded and sipped his coffee.

When Thursday came around, Paul packed a bag of clothes and toiletries, leaving it in the back of his car. Work passed as usual. Paul had to make calls to Mr. Davidson’s wife four times. Being a secretary was a strange thing sometimes, why couldn’t Mr. Davidson dial his wife himself? Paul didn’t mind doing these mindless tasks though.

He left work and headed down to his usual florist and picked up a bouquet. He had time to leave flowers for his dad before heading over to Bill. He reached the grave and a little smile formed on his lips as he took in the many different flowers covering it. They all left flowers often. Even his old Nana would take the bus there and leave a bouquet.

“I miss you,” Paul mumbled, wiping a tear off his cheek. Grief was a strange thing. He would long to visit the grave and then when he was there, he would feel out of place and at a loss for words. Sometimes the tears would stream down his cheeks, but other times not a single tear would fall, no matter how much he needed to cry.

Today was a quiet day. There was no storm of grief and emotions, just a quiet moment in the late afternoon sun.

* * *

Later, he parked by Bill’s house and headed inside. The door was open, so he called out _a hello_. There was low music coming from upstairs and a nice coat hanging by the door. “Paul,” a voice sounded, and then Bill appeared in the door, wearing a nice light grey suit. He was smiling.

“Honey, Paul’s here,” he yelled up the stairs, before turning back towards Paul, “the guest room is ready for you, like last time.”

“Great,” Paul nodded. He ascended the stairs in fast strides and headed towards the guest room. He passed the closed door to Alice’s room. That was where the music came from. The guest room was small, but nice, with a bed and a big closet. He nodded to himself while placing his bag on the bed. Then he walked back to the door.

Bill’s wife, Jenna, appeared from the master bedroom, putting on earrings. She was wearing a pretty dress in a deep blue color. “Hi Paul,” she said with a polite nod. “Alice is sulking in her room.”

“Aww,” Paul replied, glancing at the closed door. Bill appeared at the top of the stairs.

“You ready?” he asked his wife.

“In a bit,” she replied. Bill responded with a sigh. “Don’t rush me,” she said, a hint of sharpness in her tone.

“I was thinking we could order pizza, if that’s okay with you guys?” Paul asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

“That’s fine,” Bill responded. He walked over and gently knocked on Alice’s door. “You hear that, Al-pal? Paul wants to order pizza.”

There was no response. Bill shrugged at Paul.

“I’ll lure her out later,” Paul said.

“Good luck,” Jenna said and turned around, heading back into the bedroom. Bill followed her, and Paul could her their muted voices through the door. He caught _already had takeaway recently_ and _jesus christ just let them_ and then a little later _stop rushing me_.

Paul sighed and rubbed his eyes under the glasses. Sounded like the anniversary dinner was going to be very fun for them. He walked over and knocked on Alice’s door. “Hey Alice, it’s me,” he said. There was a pause, and then the music turned off.

“Come in.”

Paul opened the door and walked inside. Alice’s room was painted a light cream color, aside from one wall, which was full of chalk drawings, stickers, and twinkle lights. Alice was curled up on her bed, next to her pile of dolls and teddy bears. “Hi,” Paul said, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” Alice said, scooting up so there was room on the bed for him. “They’re fighting again, right?” she asked in a low voice.

“No, they’re, um…“ Paul paused and licked his lips “… bickering.”

Alice sent him an incredulous look. “I’m not stupid.”

“Sorry,” Paul smiled. “I know. They did seem to disagree.”

“It’s been like this for weeks,” she mumbled, “I have no idea why they are going to this stupid dinner.”

“Maybe it’ll work, and they’ll be in better moods when they come back tomorrow,” Paul offered, trying to sound reassuring. Alice scoffed and wrapped her arms around her bunny doll. “Hey,” Paul said, placing a hand on her foot, “it’ll be okay.”

“Thanks,” Alice said and gave him a little smile.

The door opened again and then Bill was there. “Al-pal, we’re taking off in a bit,” he said.

“Okay,” Alice responded, sounding like a perfectly sullen teenager.

“Honey, we gotta make the reservation!” Bill yelled back toward the master bedroom, before heading down the stairs. Paul nudged Alice, before getting up and following his friend downstairs. He could hear Alice follow them and smiled to himself.

Paul and Bill discussed the logistics, even though Paul remembered where everything was already. Alice stood near them, looking at her phone. Finally, they heard steps coming down the stairs.

“Mom, you look great,” Alice said.

“Thanks, honey,” she replied, before putting on the fancy green coat. She kissed Alice on the cheek. “Have fun. Be nice.”

“I’m always nice to Paul,” Alice defended.

“I know,” Bill said and hugged her. He kissed the top of her head. “See you tomorrow. I’m gonna miss you.”

“Dad, it’s one night,” Alice protested, but Paul could see the small smile she was trying to fight.

“Have fun,” Paul called after them as they walked to the driveway. Bill turned around and waved at them. “So, pizza?” Paul suggested, looking down at Alice. She grinned at him, keeping her mouth closed. Paul remembered when Penelope had braces and always smiled close-mouthed. Apparently, it was a common thing.

They ate pizza and drank Pepsi because that was the only soda Bill had. Alice talked about school and the new song she was learning on ukulele. After cleaning up, Alice got quiet again. Paul guessed she was thinking about her parents and whether their night was going well.

“What do you wanna do now?” he asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Do you wanna watch _Mulan_?” Alice asked, smiling shyly.

“Okay,” Paul said. He didn’t particular want to, but he wanted to cheer up Alice. She picked up their cat on the way to the living room and Paul beamed. He loved their cat, Barb. She was a patient cat and would often nap between him and Alice on the couch. Today she rested on Alice’s lap, while they watched the movie.

Paul tried his best not to grimace too much, while the elder women dressed Mulan and sang about bringing honor to them all. Singing and dancing still made him uncomfortable. It always had, ever since he was forced to sit through _Brigadoon_ in his sophomore year in High School. There was just something _deeply_ uncomfortable about people performing a dance routine together, while singing. This movie was more tolerable since it was a cartoon.

Alice shifted in her seat when Mulan cut off her hair and changed to the soldier gear. A moment later Paul felt her lean against his shoulder. She sighed and Paul smiled to himself. Alice was a good kid, and he was pleased that she seemed to like him. Paul moved a little, so she could rest more comfortably against him.

Watching this Disney character go to war to protect her father, and then later the General losing _his_ father was a little tough, and Paul felt a few tears run down his cheeks. Alice seemed captivated beside him. She was petting the cat, and he had felt her nod to along to the songs.

When the movie ended, Alice stretched and sat up. She looked at him, and Paul got the feeling she was analyzing him. “How are you?” she asked, “Dad told me about… your dad.”

“Oh,” Paul nodded, and picked at a scab of skin on his finger, “I’m okay mostly. It’s weird, actually. Half the time I’m like before. Happy, even. And then the other half I’m so sad I don’t know how to breathe.”

Alice exhaled and then she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a long hug. Paul hugged her back, breathing deeply. His nose was covered in her hair and he could smell strawberries, probably from her shampoo. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“Thanks, kid,” Paul replied.

* * *

The next day they ate cereal mostly in silence. Alice’s hair was a wild mop and she kept moving the cereal around with her spoon instead of eating. While Paul did the dishes, she went back upstairs and got ready for school. Paul packed up his things, petted Barb a little and then he knocked on her door.

“Ready to go, Al?”

She appeared in the door with a smile that seemed a little off. She had combed her hair and added purple hairclips and she had her yellow backpack covered in pins and badges over her shoulder. They drove to school and Paul tried to start conversation without luck. After a while she looked up at him. “Do you think they had a good time?”

“Yeah,” he lied on instinct, “I mean, they had good food and were dressed up. That’s fun. It has to affect their mood.”

“I guess.” Alice picked at her sleeves. “I really hope they stop fighting,” she added in a low voice, and Paul’s heart nearly broke in two.

“I hope so too,” he said. “You can always call me, okay? If there is anything.”

“Thanks,” she replied. They parked next to the school and then Alice gave him a quick hug, before jumping out of the car. Paul watched her run up to the entrance in her blue converse. He sighed.

His whole life felt like the part of the first chapter before the plot starts. He had been waiting for _something_. According to the way, Bill talked about Alice, she was his whole life. Paul didn’t have something like that. He didn’t really know if he wanted kids. He still felt so young. But he envied Bill that purpose and that love.

He hoped it was coming. His own thing.

If only his dad could have been there when it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Paul and Alice. It's so fun. I hope I captured a 14-year old somewhat.  
> Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, another chapter! There has been a small time jump here, which I guess I should mention will happen a lot. This story takes place over many years.  
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos <3<3

Christmas had always been a big deal in the Matthews family. They had so many little traditions, inside jokes and always way too much food. But this year didn’t really feel like Christmas. Penelope came from Clivesdale on the 22nd and stayed with their mother, like she always did. Paul knew his mom loved spending time with Evan, and they decorated the tree together.

On the 24th, he drove over to his mom’s house with bags of presents. It was still early morning, and there weren’t many cars on the road. As he was waiting for the light to turn green, sirens sounded and an ambulance zoomed past him, closely followed by a police car. Paul frowned as he tapped the steering wheel. When he was sure there wasn’t coming any more sirens, he turned right, taking the familiar street down to his parents’ old house.

He parked next to Pippa and Kristen’s car. After unloading, he looked up at the house and sighed at the sight of the old grey brick. It was big, with room for three kids and an office space for his dad. Paul hauled all the bags with him up the driveway. A thin layer of snow had fallen, and it made a creaking noise under his boots as he walked. Paul loved the cool morning air in the winter. It was always so calming.

The door was opened before he reached it. “Uncle Paul!” Evan yelled, grinning from ear to ear. “Is that all presents?”

“A lot of it is,” he responded, grinning at his nephew. Evan had the same round Matthews face and eyes as the rest of them, but his hair was curly and chestnut brown. He had freckles and was tall for his age, just like Paul had been.

“Score,” he said, before turning back and yelling, “Mom! Uncle Paul brought so many presents!”

“Evan, stop yelling,” Penelope said as she appeared in the door. She leaned down and kissed the top of Evan’s head, before moving him out of the way. “Hi Paul,” she said, “merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Pen,” he replied, moving inside, and taking off his scarf and coat. They hugged, and Penelope grabbed one of the bags and carried it into the living room. Paul removed his boots, revealing his bright green and red socks and then he followed Pen, admiring the garlands and Christmas lights in the hallway. He readjusted his reindeer sweater as he walked through the door.

Inside the living room, Pen and Evan were putting presents under the tree, Kristen and Pippa were hanging up stockings over the little fireplace. His mother appeared behind him with a tray of mugs and a teapot. “Hello, sweetie, merry Christmas,” she said with a smile. She was wearing a Santa hat and a green dress. Her hair had gotten almost fully grey since the summer.

Paul put the presents down by the tree and moved over to the couch. His Nana walked in with her cane and sat down next to him, pinching his cheek and grinning. Nana was a tough lady, who had raised three boys all by herself. When they were kids, visiting her with their cousins, she would keep them all in line with just a look. She was a great cook, who never threw out any type of food and she never taught anyone else her blueberry pie recipe. Paul knew it would die with her, even though his mom had tried to ask for it on several occasions. She would probably be pinching his cheeks forever, no matter how old he got. It was his destiny as the family baby.

The first part of the day passed nicely with baking cookies, and Paul was proud to say he only choked up a few times. After eating lunch and watching Die Hard, which was a tradition Kristen cared deeply about, they all packed up in coats and scarfs, hats and gloves, and then they headed to the cemetery. Nana hooked her arm around Paul’s, and he supported her up the little path.

They stood in the cold in silence, staring at the tombstone and all the flowers covered in snow. Paul’s mom leaned down and lit the two lanterns, while Evan and Pen placed Christmas decorations and another bouquet. The colors of the flowers were bright against the white ground. The layer of snow made the silence total everywhere and that heightened the severity of the moment.

“Christmas is never going to be the same again, huh?” Pippa said suddenly. Paul looked at her, and she had tears falling down her cheeks and into her scarf.

“I guess not,” he mumbled, just as Kristen wrapped an arm around her.

“I don’t know how you handle it, Mom,” Pen said, putting both her hands on Evan’s shoulders.

“I have to, I guess,” Meg responded. Her voice was shaky.

Tears were stinging Paul’s eyes and he looked down at Nana. She was silent, eyes fixated on the name on the tombstone. Paul’s heart clenched. She had to feel the worst. At least as a kid you knew that one day you would lose your parents. Nana had lost her son.

“I just wanna… sit next to him and watch Rudolph and eat too many cookies,” Pippa said, leaning her head against Kristen’s shoulder.

“I wanna decorate him while he naps,” Pen said, and they all laughed fondly. It was a tradition back then. Paul had distinct memories of being little and nervous as he joined his sisters in the pranking. He was so worried they were going to get busted.

“Remember all the snowball fights, and how he would taste-test the eggnog over and over,” Paul chuckled. They all laughed again, before falling silent. Paul’s heart clenched again. His dad and him would team up against the girls, and he was never a good shot, but his dad always encouraged him, telling him _good try_ or _nice shot_. They would usually lose to the girl team, but Paul was always so proud. Now they would never have a snow fight again, they would never-

“As a kid, he would touch all the presents and shake them,” Nana piped up in her usual creaky voice. There was another small ripple of laughter.

“He was the absolute best,” Paul declared, and the others agreed.

They stood in the snow until the tips of Paul’s fingers were numb, and the light had started to dim. Then they shuffled back to their cars. Paul dropped Nana off on the way back. She was tired and needed rest.

* * *

At home, the others had made tea and hot chocolate and taken out more Christmas treats. Paul cradled his mug between his hands as he leaned against the armrest of the couch. Kristen sat down next to him, grinning. Her short, black hair was slicked back, and she was wearing a Christmas sweater with the classic patterns, and the writing _sleigh the patriarchy_ on it. Paul smiled, before taking a sip.

“So, Paulie, what’s it like being a secretary? Still fun?” Penelope asked, as she sat down on the other couch.

“It’s alright, actually,” Paul responded, “Last month Mr. Davidson needed help with his spreadsheet, and well, you know me and my love for Excel, so I helped him. Ever since, I have been helping others at work with optimizing their spreadsheets. Charlotte told me I saved her hours of work with one of the macros I made,” he added the last bit proudly, and his Mom sent him an appreciative nod.

“Nice,” Pippa grinned and leaned over to give him a high-five.

“What about the apartment?” Kristen asked, “you still happy with it?”

“It’s alright,” Paul shrugged, “a bit small, I guess.”

“Let me know if I should look for something bigger for you,” Kristen said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know where we can negotiate the price down.”

“That would be great,” Paul nodded.

“How’s work?” Pen asked Kristen.

“Oh, it’s great – I just sold that mansion in Pinebrook. The wife was so horny for the kitchen backsplash and the pool, it was _so_ easy to convince them. She was all _Gerald! We must live here_ , and he did as she said.” Kristen grinned, “ _God_ , I love rich snobby women.”

Paul laughed. Kristen was a great real estate agent, and she always told them about her sales in the funniest way. His sister had good taste in women and her wife was truly a great addition to the family. They had been together since they were 18. Since Paul was only 6 years old back then, Kris had been a part of his life practically always.

“ _Ah_ , shit, there was a car crash this morning. Two people died,” Pippa said, reading from her phone. Paul suddenly remembered the ambulance he saw when he was driving over.

“Pip, no, come on,” Pen protested, gesturing to Evan.

“Honey, it’s Christmas. Let’s not talk about sad things,” their mom pleaded. There was a beat of silence.

“Last guy is in the hospital,” Pippa added in a low voice, a defiant expression on her face.

“Babe, just…” Kristen said, doing a cut it off motion with her hand.

“Who wants more hot chocolate?” Meg asked, her voice raising awkwardly to a higher pitch.

* * *

Another family tradition was the mac n’ cheese for dinner. Paul and Pippa helped Kristen make it, although their way of helping mostly consisted of talking and opening the wine. They didn’t have eggnog this year. No one felt like they could do it without Connor. It meant another thing was missing, but Paul was sure he wouldn’t have been able to stop crying if he had tried to make it.

Kristen seemed only mildly irritated with their way of helping. Penelope and Evan came out to help set the table, and Pippa volunteered to fold napkins with him. Penelope poured herself a glass of wine and sighed.

“How are you holding up?” Kristen asked her.

“It’s tough. Evan loves Christmas so much, and I can’t figure out if I should try to make it as normal as possible or not. Is he going to be sad he can’t have _his_ Christmas again or is he going to be upset if I pretend it’s the same?” she said it all with another sigh and ran a hand through her light brown hair.

“I think the balance you’re keeping is right. Pretending it’s the same as with your dad would be wrong, but life moves on. He should know that too.” Kristen said reassuringly. She patted Pen on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Paul added, not sure what else to say. Sometimes he didn’t feel like he was enough of an adult to participate in conversations like this. “And we are all here to help with all of it.”

“Thanks,” Penelope said, drinking more wine. “I can’t believe this much time has passed already.”

“Me neither,” Paul agreed. In spite of long days full of sadness and longing, the summer and fall had passed fast.

“You’re all holding up well,” Kristen said, smiling at them warmly.

When the food was ready, they sat down and ate. There was a strange vibe in the air. It wasn’t sad, but it wasn’t happy either. Paul guessed they were all worrying about actual Christmas Day tomorrow and how that would pass.

At first, Evan hadn’t wanted to place cookies and milk for Santa, claiming he was getting too old, but when his mother tried to get him to go to bed, he came back downstairs in his pjs and told them, he wanted to leave treats for Santa after all.

After one last Christmas movie, the rest of them called it a night. Paul went to sleep in his old room, cramming himself into his twin bed. He looked at the stripe of moonlight highlighting the corner of his old Radiohead poster. Tomorrow would be the first Christmas without his dad. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shot, making two tears fall. One slowly fell along his nose.

He would get through this. He would exchange presents with his sisters and he would let himself cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's all sad right now, but it will get better!!! I promise!! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! (and if you see a typo or something like that)


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